Madam Pomfrey had never even noticed that Harry, Francis, and Severus had disappeared, and had to be told twice over what happened to finally comprehend why she was seeing what she was seeing. Harry was a girl, Severus turned into a living teenaged human when he stepped into the sunshine that streamed through a near-by window, an old Tom Riddle stood in the middle of her floor, Draco was in his twenties, and there was another Harry Potter to contend with.

"This is most shocking," she said for the fourth time as she touched Harry's hair and arm, looked at Harry2, and touched the living Severus' arm as well. There was a look of dizzy incomprehension on her face. "I must tell the Headmaster immediately." She hurried out of the hospital ward.

Harry2 turned to the others. "She took that better than I imagined. Well, if I'd had the time to imagine it, that is." He stared bemusedly after her, perhaps bored because of how little physical action took place in this reality. Francis looked around in search of a missing something. After a quick trip around the room, he turned to the others and held his hands up.

"Where did Marcia go?"

"Hmm?" Harry2 stirred from his thoughts and walked over to a chair to sit on. "Probably got distracted," he said with a wave. "Shiny objects and food easily distract Mom."

The Bloody Baron slipped through the floor before Francis' feet. Francis jumped back and stared at the ghost with a suspicious glare. "Actually," the Bloody Baron said to Harry2, "our darling Hufflepuff sent her on an important mission. Off to do whatever the rest of you neglected to do."

Riddle stirred from where he was laying on a nearby hospital bed with one arm flung across his eyes and Pinky sitting next to his pillow. "And what would that be?" he asked without stirring. The Bloody Baron said nothing as he disappeared through the floor. Francis sighed.

"I wish our ghosts wouldn't that," he said. He absently fiddled with his goggles and went back to searching the room. Various old paintings, picture frames, and mirrors were hung around a bed with rumpled covers and a bandstand, which a large, plain gold wedding band sat upon. Francis picked the wedding band up and slipped it on his left ring finger with a forlorn expression on his face. He sank down on the bed and stared at the floor. Harry wandered over to his side and sat down on the bed beside him. "We didn't find her," Francis said mournfully, just loud enough for Harry to hear.

Draco, bored, wandered over to stand beside Severus, who was standing in the sunshine that streamed through one of the hospital wing's windows. "So," he said, "we found a good Tom Riddle and brought him back. What do we need to do now?"

"We?" Severus' eyebrow arched up. "You weren't even supposed to be here anymore than him," he nodded his head over to Harry2. "One of the questions we should be asking is how are we going to send you back."

Draco looked at Severus in surprise. "I don't have anywhere to go. Need I remind you my reality is completely fucked over and the only two people I got along with now happen to be gone, placed in Marcia's care? Furthermore, I happen to like being here with you lot. It's like family, only, you know, with sex involved."

Harry2's hand twitched from where he was sitting in the chair, and Francis' face turned bright red. Pinky gasped.

"He said the S word!" she said indignantly. With one hand on her hip, she shook the other hand at Draco. "Shames on you!"

"You tell him, Pinky," Riddle mumbled softly. Francis coughed into his hand. "Well, most other matters aside, the reason we were looking for and brought along Tom Riddle was so he could help us against Voldemort. We'll need to pool our information together, find out what is currently going on with our Voldemort, and then try to accommodate uncertain implications as they arise."

"What sort of uncertain implications?" Harry asked.

"Well, it has occurred to me that Sirius might see you like that."

"Like this?" Harry looked down at her protruding chest. "I'm supposed to be turned back into myself when we got back, and we are back, right?"

"Um. Yeessss . . ." Francis refused to look Harry in the eye.

Harry frowned. "And I am supposed to be turned back into my male self, aren't I?" She tried to sound forceful, but there was a tickle of uncertainty in her voice that was clear. "You didn't lie, did you?"

Francis floundered his hands in protest. "N-no! Harry, it's just that, well, imagine how much power it took to change you into a girl! Voldemort, in this reality, is going to notice it when we turn you back into yourself. He's going to recognize something of himself in Tom Riddle's power--as well he should--and we don't want his notice just yet. We may have to delay your, er, re-transfiguration until the time is right."

Harry stared at the floor when Francis finished speaking. Francis studied her with a fair bit of nervousness and regret, but there was a feeling in the pit of Harry's stomach that she did not like. It felt, it was . . . Guilt? No. She did not feel guilty about being a girl. Disappointment? Yes, she was disappointed that she had been forced into this situation. Betrayal. Yes, that was it; Harry felt like she had been lied to. Francis was her great-grandfather and was supposed to be truthful and trustworthy. "But you said . . ." She stopped speaking. That was the attitude of a little child stamping his or her feet and saying, It's just not fair! You promised! You promised! I hate you, you big meanie!

Harry sighed and buried her face in her hands. "How much longer am I gonna be like this?"

Francis looked over to Riddle for support, but Riddle remained as he was, prone on the bed with his eyes covered. "It depends. It's not a permanent situation," he said hurriedly.

"Unless," Severus said from his window with a hint of maliciousness, "Riddle is to die if he fights Voldemort and he never had the chance to turn Harry back into a girl." Francis glared at him and Severus shrugged. "We have to look at all possibilities. I am one of the first causalities, and it's safer to assume there will be more before this situation is resolved."

"We will be turning Harry back before that happens," he said. "Hopefully we can arrange it so Tom Riddle won't use up so much power." He looked over at the bed where Riddle lay, as if waiting for him to say something. Perhaps sensing Francis' gaze upon him, Riddle stirred momentarily. He dropped his arm to his side and pushed himself into an upright position. Pinky looked at him in concern, her one little hand touching his robe to steady him. Riddle squeezed his eyes shut, rubbed them, and then squinted at Harry.

"Give me some time to recover," he said. "I don't know how much power I may need to fight Voldemort, and how much time it is possible to gain between the fight and transfiguring you." He rubbed his eyes again and held his hands up to study. "Odd," he said softly to himself, "you seem to be blurring my vision." He squinted at Harry again, and then motioned her to stand closer to him. Harry reluctantly complied. As she came closer, she noticed how Riddle's hair was almost a solid silver color and his face was wane. Jumping realities had sucked life from Riddle as easily as the Mirror of Rebounds sucked magic from him as well. He grabbed her hand and caressed her skin as he stood, still squinting and studying her. With a muttered curse, he dropped her hand and collapsed on the bed. "My vision is blurring!" he snarled, rubbing his eyes more furiously.

"What's wrong? Besides that, I mean," Harry asked. She placed her hand on his shoulder and felt the muscles bunching tightly.

"Damned if I know. Fuck!" The furiousness of the word could have scoured paint off walls and perhaps intimidated Severus Snape. Riddle angrily pushed Harry's arm away and covered his face with his hands. Harry looked worriedly at him. Maybe being in different realities was slowly killing Riddle, since he was supposedly the only good Tom Riddle to exist in the Universe. Maybe there was a poison that affected Voldemort, and it was leeching into Tom Riddle, who had somehow escaped it in his own reality.

What had they done to Riddle to bring him here?

Francis walked across the room and knelt in front of Riddle. He pushed Riddle's shoulder's back and waited for Riddle to drop his hands and glower coldly at him for the intrusion. Francis scrutinized Riddle's eyes for a moment. "It almost looks like you have a concussion," he said. "Your eyes aren't focusing like they're supposed to, and your pupils are dilated so much I can barely see the irises." A hopeful note appeared in his voice, although worry grew more in his face as Francis looked from Riddle's eyes to Riddle's silver hair. "Maybe you just received a nasty blow to the head when you came through the Jump."

Riddle said nothing. His eyes narrowed as he stood upright. He grabbed a lock of hair and tugged it before his vision. A muscle jumped in his jaw as he studied the silver; only a few, barely noticeable, threads of black remained. With a snort, he crossed his arms before himself. "I don't feel old," he said. He glanced sideways at Harry. "Do I look old?"

Harry did not know of Riddle was asking her because she was female or because she was Harry Potter, but was she supposed to appeal to his vanity? "I think the hair makes you look distinguished," she said carefully. "You have some lines around your eyes, but you had them before."

"Distinguished." Harry, as a boy, had realized there was something about girls that made him strive to attracting their attention, like Cho, whom she had a feeling would not want to see Harry Potter the girl. But seeing how Riddle perked up at the word, his shoulders straightening slightly, made Harry too aware of the power she wielded against the male gender.

It made her feel queasy. Was this what she, Harry Potter, amounted to? Being a girl? Was this how people were starting to see her? A feeling of alarm began to rise in Harry's stomach, pushing like bile against the back of her throat. Her companions' idea of Harry's gender was changing their behavior towards her, and the thought sent a chill down her spine. "How soon will I be changed back?" She could not keep the fear from her voice, and Riddle's eyes flicked when he noticed it. Francis was right; Riddle's eyes were out of sync as they strayed into two different directions.

"How soon will I know what to do with Voldemort?" he asked, answering her question with his own. "I must accommodate your change with information. Knowledge must be gathered so we can wring as much use from your transfiguration as possible. Can you wait?"

Harry gulped. "Well." What if Sirius or, heaven forbid, Ron and Hermione, decided to visit suddenly? What if they decided that Harry fundamentally changed with the gender? Harry was Harry, irregardless of being male or female, or (Harry glanced quickly at Harry2, who was watching the scenario with avid interest) human or demon. Was it too much to be treated no differently now than it was when she had been male?

Harry's gaze dropped to her breasts. Guess not, she thought ruefully.
=========================

Marcia cheerfully dashed down the length of the tunnel. Flashes and streams of color would whip past her, on to their own journey to another dimension somewhere, for whatever reason. She never questioned the formalities of how the dimensions shared aspects with one another through energies that diffused between the dimensions and sought like out. While Marcia may have seen many things through her life, she forgot most of it. A sense of familiarity lingered with many things, but the specifics easily escaped her. She was not really bothered by most of it, since being bothered took time and effort, and Marcia rarely invested her time and effort into bothersome things.

Another light flashed in front of her, and then stopped. Marcia stared at James Potter and he stared back. "If you want my son, you can't have him," she said finally. "You gave him to me and it's too late to take him back."

James looked startled. "Which one?"

"Dunno. How many were you supposed to have?"

"Well, I'm waiting for some things to start happening in my original reality, but until then I'm not needed so I was just exploring around." He flinched and looked over his shoulder. "I wouldn't have minded more children. Lily and I talked about it and decided four was a very ideal number, if that's what she wanted to go through because, well, I wasn't the one trying to push something the size of a watermelon through my body orifice the size of like yay." He shaped his fingers into a small circle. Marcia winced. "However, looking through these various realities, I've leaned more about the various twin sisters Harry had than anything else. Oddly enough, he never had any brothers."

Marcia rubbed her ear thoughtfully. She would not have minded giving Harry a little brother or sister, but when she took care of the Haflings, a troop of half-breeds left over from Voldemort's reign of terror, Harry suddenly had a family whose dysfunction easily matched the dysfunction of Marcia's family. "Is having a twins sister a bad thing?"

"Not exactly. But these girls are frightening! Most of them were powerful beyond any right, had identical scars as Harry, and were never even touched with the Killing Curse as Harry was. They also beautiful and supposedly intelligent, although most of them had an attitude that would have made my grandmother take them over her knee if they ever expressed it to her. Mind you, I was never spanked, but I wasn't cheeky either."

Marcia nodded her head in agreement. While her own mother was patient and even-tempered, it did not do to upset her. Ria had never raised her hand against Marcia (mostly because Marcia somehow managed to outrun Ria before she could get the swatting she so richly deserved), but she was perfectly capable of carrying a grudge for centuries. That was too long to go without custard.

"I don't know how or why Lily and I managed to have so many of these twins in so many different realities and just how obscenely and obnoxiously perfect these girls can be. It's simply nauseating, really."

Marcia nodded again. Despite only knowing James Potter for a few brief moments, Marcia had always assumed she and he would have gotten along splendidly. Obscenely and obnoxiously perfect girls grated Marcia's nerves. Mostly because Marcia knew, no matter how hard she tried, she would never be perfect or beautiful or intelligent, or even popular for that matter. It made borrowing money from people a difficult thing to do. She actually had to work for what she wanted when she was unable to steal it readily enough. Not that Marcia knew too many obscenely and obnoxiously perfect girls, unless one included her great-grandmother, who was such an airhead that Marcia did not really think Ilene was perfect anyway.

"So I think I'll not go exploring anymore. Instead," James folded his legs beneath himself and sat down, "I think I'll just wait here until you pass through Grandmother and say hello to her." He smiled up at Marcia. "It wouldn't be so bad to see her again. I missed her."

"But you're dead."

He frowned. "I'm all too aware of that, thank you very much."

" 'kay. Sometimes it's hard to tell with some of you ghosts." Marcia whipped around on her heel, carefully edged around James, and dashed down the tunnel. James looked over his shoulder at her, his eyes bottomless holes of darkness. Fine hair-like cracks appeared momentarily in the dimension's walls before he waved his hand. Energy leaked through the cracks and sealed them shut. James stood up, stretched his arms above his head, and sunk before the dimensional surface.
====================

It was a dark room made of up dark stone, with only a single body that lay across the threshold, an uncomfortable wooden chair, and an alter with a top of black obsidian. A single candle burned from where it rested in its stick on top of the obsidian. It was the sort of room where mad, evil geniuses would brood, but Voldemort was not prone to brooding.

At least, not often and certainly not on an empty stomach, although his stomach was certainly very empty at this moment. The blood that covered the top of the obsidian was freshly shed, and he was drawing the needed symbols and runes into the blood before it congealed and became useless. It was not often he managed to get his hands on a virgin, especially in this day and age.

Voldemort sneered at the thought. He had difficulty believing now than any girl over the age of sixteen could possibly be a virgin. It seemed to be an unspoken rule that the last day she was fifteen she had to have sex. And he had thought finding an innocent in the seventies was rough. At least the Amish Muggles still followed their old ways. Despite being Muggles, Voldemort admired people who ignored the changes of the "modern" world and retained their traditions. He admired that in a group of people despite enormous pressures and constantly arising inconveniences that tried to destroy the tradition. Now, if he could just get his kind to do that . . .

This was one of the simpler power ceremonies. He had to be clean of all traces of anything. He had fasted for the required twenty-eight hours, bathed clean, and then cut the sacrifice's throat. He had to use the blood of an innocent to bind the elements closer to his powers. Fire, water, air, earth; power, strength, time, chance. But he needed time for immortality, and it had to be bound to chance, so this time his immortality could repair itself and not be destroyed. He could control his destiny, and overwhelm the destiny of others so they could not destroy his time. Not like the last time, when power and strength joined with chance and led by time from so very long ago.

If anyone had ever asked Voldemort why he wanted to be immortal, he would have sighed and said, "I need all the time in the world to complete my mission."

He knew he was evil. He knew he was despised, hated, and feared by virtually thousands of people all over the world. So what? So what if these people hated, despised, and feared him? Hate was only the other side of love. It was a passion that could destroy the world and capture the attention of many. It did far more than love, because love dies. Hate lives on forever, and burns out only after the body gives up. Love withers away to a dim memory. Despicability could easily crush generosity, and fear keeps his enemies in check.

And of them all, only three people never hated, despised, and/or feared him despite what he was, and Voldemort could not safely gauge their behavior. One was dead by his own hands, the other was a child who was not easily broken, and the third . . . Dumbledore. What was Voldemort to do with Dumbledore besides kill him? And therein lay the problem, for Voldemort could not kill Dumbledore quite yet.

Voldemort paused and looked over the symbols he had drawn thus far. He corrected the curve in one of the runes with the tip of his pinky. These had to be correct.

Humans were creatures of chance, and earth was life and life was the blood in the human body. Everything was just a large circle that led back around to one another. Everything was a coincidence if you looked backwards through time. Voldemort meant to capture that circle, those coincidences, to his own means. He would wrap his life and his power into continuous loops that would reconnect when interrupted. He would feed off of time and chance, and nothing was going to break him ever again.

His fingers froze. There it was again. He looked off to the side and tried to understand what exactly it was. It disturbed him how he could feel echoes of his old power from so long ago flaring off from a distance. It disturbed him even more that the first time was a couple weeks ago and was tracked to that boy's home. But to have two of those echoes within mere minutes apart from each other? Something was happening, and he did not like to be kept in the dark like this.

Voldemort stood up, and stared down at his work. Should he continue? The ceremony had to continued immediately after the symbols were done so he could capture the power that lay in the fresh blood tied to dark sorcery. If he left now to learn what was going on, he would have to start all over again and it had been hell finding this young, supple virgin.

With a resigned sigh, he sat down. The echoes could wait. His power lingered and he could recognize his own self well enough, even after time passed. But virgins were a rarity to come by in this day and age, and Voldemort was not the sort of person to waste perfectly good sacrifices. At least not as of lately.
====================

After an hour of silent brooding on everyone's parts (except Harry2, who doodled on glass that he fogged with a single puff of air, and Riddle, who took a nap on one of the hospital beds with the covers pulled up to his ears) Professor McGonagall entered the hospital wing. McGonagall's lips were pressed together in a colorless line and the look on her face was uncertain yet defiant. The defiance turned to confusion when she saw Draco, Harry2, and a rather solid, teenaged Severus.

"This, this is certainly a surprise," she said as she looked around.

"It could have been worse," Draco said flippantly. He stared at her openly when she gave him a warning look. She turned to Francis and Harry.

"Do any of you realize the implications of this?"

Francis looked up from the rubber band contraption he had been absently fiddling with as Harry watched. "I'm sure most of us are quite familiar with it. At the moment, we have three pairs of the same person running around, but each person is their own unique, individual self. Now, I realize that two Harrys and two Dracos are a bit of a shock, and that--"

"Yes, there is that," McGonagall interrupted impatiently. "I meant the fact there is one Tom Riddle and one Voldemort in this country."

"Oh. That implication."

Severus turned around from where he was looking out the window. "I, for one, would love to see the look on their faces when they meet each other face to face."

"As would I," said Draco. "But I'm grateful it's one Tom Riddle and one Voldemort, instead of two Voldemorts. Can anyone imagine how that would be like?"

Harry2 grinned. "They'd either try and kill each other because of perceived competition, or they'd team up together because the only person you can trust is yourself, even if you are from a different dimension."

"Either way," McGonagall cut in before anyone else could say anything, "the countryside is going to be torn apart."

"Now we don't know that for sure," Francis said firmly. "We don't know the full extent of the damage these two can cause if they fight head-on with each other."

"Francis." McGonagall folded her hands before herself. "Tom Riddle, Voldemort, either or both, is or are one or some of the most powerful wizards of our time." She threw her arms up in the air in defeat. "I'm not sure how to even address this situation with two people of the same sort to be addressed!"

"You're doing well," Francis said helpfully. "What does Albus have to say of this?"

"I have no idea at this point. Madam Pomfrey was still talking to him when Albus sent me here to speak to everyone. What I don't understand is how this even happened? I know you came through the Mirror of Rebounds and I know that has something to do with this, this 'skipping realities,' but I'm having difficulty understanding how."

Francis nibbled on the inside of his lip as McGonagall frowned and looked over the top of her glasses at him. "Well, Harry made a mistake of touching the Mirror of Rebounds, and that was our first Jump. We were going to try going sideways through time so we could maybe find Pandora, and somehow, after we started Jumping, we got sidetracked into looking for a good Tom Riddle."

"And you found him?"

"Er, yes. Of course, good is merely relative, as I'm not quite sure what to make of this Tom. He's not Voldemort though and never was, so I suppose that's the best we're ever going to find. We went through hell and high water to fetch him. In the process, we ran into this Harry," Francis nodded his head to Harry2, "accidentally brought along Draco," he nodded his head to Draco, "and had to turn our Harry into a girl." Harry self-consciously tried to cover to her chest as McGonagall turned a disapproving eye upon her and truly noticed Harry's current physical for the first time.

"Francis!" McGonagall hurried over to Harry. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do it. Tom Riddle did."

Harry did not think it was right that all the blame should be pinned on Tom Riddle. "You made him do it. All of you took a vote to transfigure me into a girl!"

"But it was for your own good." McGonagall turned to Francis.

"And how was it to be for Harry's own good? What if Riddle messed up? If something were to go wrong with the transfiguration, Harry would have become something too horrid to imagine and beyond anyone's ability to repair it!"

Tom Riddle stirred from where he was laying under the covers. He sat up and glared at McGonagall, looking intimidating despite his silver hair sticking up in various directions. "Are you saying," he said in a low voice, power giving his words an impending sense of doom, "that I am incapable of correct transfiguration, even one as complex as gender changes?" Something crackled in the depth of Riddle's eyes; it took Harry a moment to realize that Riddle was very upset at someone insulting his skill and prowess. "While my skills in Transfiguration are not par to those of Albus', I am still perfectly capable of handling far-advanced, very complex transfigurations without making a mistake." He climbed out of the bed and walked to stand a length's distance from McGonagall. His expression hinted of danger as he demurely folded his hands before himself and said in a whisper, "Of all things that may be questioned of myself, my skill should never be one of them."

McGonagall took a step backward, tense and alarmed as a swell of power surrounded Riddle and spread outward like a tidal wave. Harry's hair stood on end and she found herself reaching for her wand and her scar throbbed with the rhythm of the swelling power. Before she could say anything, Severus tossed a crumpled piece of paper he obtained from somewhere across the room. It bounced off Riddle's temple and he whirled around, power snapping about as his focal point changed. Severus gasped and bent slightly at the waist.

"Close proximity to Voldemort appears to have an effect on you," Severus grunted as he wrapped his arms around his abdomen.

Riddle froze at the words, and then snapped his wrists. The power surged backwards to him and disappeared. He slouched over, a tired old man without the support of his magic. "My vision is starting to blur again," he said as he pressed a hand against his eyes. McGonagall grasped the front of her robes as if to shield herself from him. Riddle barely afforded her a glance as Draco stepped forward and lent Riddle his arm. "I may not have time to recover," he said. "I need to know about Voldemort now." He dropped his hand and glared at McGonagall, not nearly as menacing as before. "Where is Dumbledore?"

"Here," a soft voice called from the entrance of the hospital wing. "Of all the things I might have imagined when Poppy told me of this reality jumping, seeing you was not one of them." His gaze was assessing as he stepped forward, Madam Pomfrey closely at his heels. "I don't believe I can trust you, or this situation, especially considering such strength." He stopped moving and continued to watch Riddle with eyes that seems to know and understand everything seen.

"I wouldn't trust myself either, if I became such an abomination," Riddle said. He leaned against Draco for support and nodded his head to the bed he had been napping in. Draco led him to the bed, where Pinky stood on the pillow and watched her Master with wide eyes. Riddle carefully sat down on the bed and rubbed his eyes again. Francis gestured to Madam Pomfrey.

"We think he hit his head," he said softly. "His eyes won't focus and he complains of blurry vision."

Lips pressed tightly together, Madam Pomfrey hurried to Riddle's side. She placed her hand under his chin and tilted his head back. She studied his gaze with a frown, dropped his chin, and then began to press her hands against his scalp. "Tell me if this hurts," she said, carefully palpating his head and the back of his neck.

"I don't feel anything except annoyance with myself," Riddle muttered stubbornly. When he said nothing more, Madam Pomfrey dropped her hands and stepped back.

"Use your eyes to follow my finger, do not turn your head as you do." Madam Pomfrey moved her hand from different angles away from Riddle's field of vision. She frowned as his eyes jerked and strayed from looking at her finger. "Something is wrong with your vision, but you have not suffered a blow to the head--at least none so far as I can tell. Definitely neurological, though."

"I suspect," Riddle glanced at Severus, who was leaning against the window with his arms wrapped around his abdomen and wincing, "that Snape has a point: Close proximity is having an adverse effect. We need to move quickly. We need information quickly; we need to fight quickly." From the look Riddle gave Francis, Harry had to wonder when these two had time to discuss ideas of what to do when they finally arrived at their destination. "So far, the only thing we know is that Voldemort is here as am I, my power will attract his attention if it hasn't already when I transfigure Harry, and it's not going to be pretty when we come face to face." Here, he looked at Harry2, who watched Riddle with a closed expression.

Riddle carefully stood up, brushed away Pomfrey's offer for help, and walked over to stand at the window beside Severus. "Can you get the information we need?"

"Specifics," Severus growled. "What exactly do you need to know?"

"I need to what Voldemort is now. What sort of backup does he have? His depth of knowledge if at all possible of knowing. I will need a monitor of his reaction when I transfigure Harry. I need to know what is going on now." Riddle looked at Dumbledore. "Can you help me with any of this?" There was a pleading note in Riddle's voice that caused Dumbledore's eyes to widen in surprise.

"Yes. I have informants who watch Voldemort closely." Dumbledore patted his beard in thought. "They could be here within the hour if you so need to speak to them."

Riddle nodded his head. "The sooner the better." He looked apologetically to Harry. "Time creates a unique problem for us. Now, were I Voldemort, and were I trying to recover power I had lost through a rather drastic situation, I would like some time in which to do this. And the more time I invest, the more powerful I would become." Riddle closed his eyes briefly. McGonagall and Pomfrey looked aghast at the idea of Riddle being Voldemort. His eyes opened and he smiled wryly at the two women. "In which case, it would be more easier to act as quickly as possible. Since I never really investigated the dark sorcery necessary to make myself powerful, I have no way to make an honest measurement of where Voldemort currently stands with what he is going. Still, it would not be wise to wait too long." His gaze shifted to Harry. "And were I Voldemort, I would recognize that something is going on with Pandora's Box opening and closing all the time, and would investigate it. It won't take him long to learn that there are people here who shouldn't exist, and when that happens all hell will break free."

A chill ran up the length of Harry's spine. "So what do we do?" she asked in a small voice. "If that's the time and the place, what are the means?"

Riddle pushed his hair away from his face and looked annoyed. "That may be where you come in," he said. "From what I understand, there is only one person who can aggravate Voldemort into doing something he had not planned. We can use Harry Potter to force him into the time and place we select, and then I will deal with Voldemort from there. We can take care of your transfiguration at the same time, but we must move quickly and our information must be as complete and precise as possible. One small misstep on anyone's part and it can mean death and worse." Again, Harry had to wonder when Riddle had time to discuss this with Francis, who was currently rummaging through his pockets for something to give to Dumbledore.

"No!" Draco hurried forward and planted himself in front of Harry. "I refuse to let you put her into danger! You want to use her as a decoy, don't you?" Harry tried to peak around the wide breadth of his shoulders. She looked with confusion from Draco, who stood before Riddle defiantly with his hands on his hips and his feet spread wide, to Riddle, who observed Draco's behavior with barely-masked annoyance.

Did Harry ever act that impetuous when she was male? I can't believe I just thought that. Harry acted like that when she was male, so maybe it was just apart of the personality. Gender had nothing to do with it. So why was McGonagall giving Harry that odd look? Harry had not done anything to seduce Draco into his actions. (Harry cringed at the thought and felt her face glow red.)

"Did I say we were going to use her?" Riddle asked, his eyes narrowing dangerously. Harry thought she caught a spark of his power igniting, but the feeling was too swift for her to tell.

Draco pointed at Harry2. "And he's different enough that Voldemort would suspect something."

"Um. Excuse me." Harry poked Draco's shoulder. He shrugged her hand away. Harry quickly glanced at Harry2, who shook his head ruefully and looked away.

"And where do you think you come into the plans?" Riddle asked. He slowly stepped closer to Draco. "The only one who can force Voldemort's hand is Harry or myself, and we'll have to work together as a team. The only one Voldemort is expecting is Harry, and we can't afford to lose the advantage we have."

"And you can't use her. You'll be putting her directly in front of enemy fire, and I won't let you do that. She can't take care of herself."

Harry stamped her foot. It was all about Harry being female! They weren't looking at Harry for what she--he actually was! "That is so sexist! You wouldn't be saying that to me if I were male!"

Draco looked over his shoulder at her. "Be quiet. I'm doing this for your own good." He turned back to Voldemort, and Harry viciously shoved her shoulder against his back.

"Now you listen to me!" She glared at Draco as he righted his balance, whipped around to glare at Francis before he could say anything, and then silently seethed as she scowled at everyone else. "I haven't heard the entire plan at this moment, and if that's the entire plan then we obviously need to think of something else." Harry threw her hands up in the air. "And so what if I'm used as a decoy?" She poked Draco in the chest as he took an angry step forward. "I can take care of myself! You have been underestimating me since I became a girl, and that's not saying much for you! I haven't always been a girl, nor will I always be a girl, so don't start thinking of me as a girl! Who was it who faced Professor Quirrel over the Philosopher's stone? Who was it who took on Riddle's basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets? Who was it who took on dementors? Who faced Voldemort over the Goblet when she--er, he, I was tied up? It was me! And even though I had some help with Nagini, I still faced her as well, chained naked to a slab of stone! You weren't there to protect me, and neither was Dumbledore or Francis or Severus or anyone else! It was me, so don't you be standing there as if I'm not here and tell everyone else that I'm incapable of taking care of myself. I got through this reality jumping like everyone else did."

"You're lucky," Harry2 muttered softly. "You escaped having Professor Umbridge."

Draco grabbed Harry's upper arm fiercely. She yelped at the sharp pressure of his fingers and tried to pull free. "And who was it who lost his right eye when he fought my father? Who was it who was half-paralyzed when he was struck down from behind by a Death Eater?" Draco's face was red with anger and his eyes glittered dangerously as he punctuated his words with a shake. "Who was it who died when Voldemort was killed? It was you! You! You! You! You aren't invincible or immortal and you can get hurt or die just like anyone else in this room!

"Don't touch me!" Harry slapped his shoulder as she tried to pull away, and stomped her foot in a fit when she could not. How dare he lever his strength against her! "All you are here is a vicious brat who would very much like to see me hurt or dead and I hate you! And if that isn't enough, I am defined by what I do, not by what I have become and every single one of you don't bother treating me like Harry! To you all, I'm just a girl and I'm tired of it! I became a girl to help, and I hate it!" The heel of her hand slammed into Draco's jaw and he reeled backwards in shock, more out of her words than the blow. The expression on his face as he looked at her was that of a heartbroken puppy.

He rubbed his jaw, and then anger came back. "Well, fine! So I am a vicious brat! So be it! Go ahead and die all over again because I simply don't care anymore!" He stumbled backwards and sat heavily on one of the hospital beds. Harry, close to tears of frustration, hurried past him.

"Fine!" She yelled over her shoulder. "I can get killed well enough without your help then, male or female, because I'm Harry Potter and I exist to die!" She slammed the door to the hospital wing behind her so hard the mirrors and pictures on the walls rattled.

McGonagall started after Harry, but stopped when Severus started to laugh. Draco gave him a dirty, slightly tearful, glare from where he sat sulking. "Lovers' spats," said Severus with a malicious amusement, "are never pretty, but always highly entertaining." Still chuckling, he turned to look out the window once more.

"Didn't look like one to me," Francis said to no one in particular. "Looked more like the one time Oliver managed to lose his temper with the twins."

Harry2 brushed past McGonagall. "I think I'd better be the one to speak to her," he said.

"I'll come with you," Francis said as he took a step forward. Harry2 stopped with the door half-open. He looked over his shoulder at the others.

"No," he said with a shake of his head. "Of all of us in this room, I probably know Harry best because I'm Harry too. We're not the same person, but we share some basic thoughts, opinions, and experiences. I also have many female relations in my life--most, admittedly, are family and are about as feminine as a rock, but still, they go through that time of month and everything--so I've a fair bit of experience with the female mind. Harry doesn't think he's changed because he's now a she, but the problem is he has. So much has happened to him as a girl that it won't just disappear right now. So I think it's best that I'm the only one who speaks to her at this moment." He exited the room, closing the door softly behind him.

"Be honest, Francis," said Riddle with another wry smile. "How many women in your family actually threw a fit like the one Harry just had? Pandora wasn't prone to fits, and Anastasia and Edwina chose to get even rather get mad."

Francis nodded his head sadly. "Too true," he said. He brightened up. "But my mum was prone to fits. We never had fine china because she tended to throw stuff around the room. Of course, I hid under the furniture when that happened, although she never did aim what she was throwing at me." McGonagall and Dumbledore nodded their heads; having known Francis as a child, they both knew of his childhood and parental guidance.

Riddle was silent for a moment. "Why?" he asked finally, when no one else would.

"She always said if a person could afford it, they should always throw some things around to ease frustration." Francis scratched his head. "I'm not too sure it worked, since she always tended to get more frustrated the more she threw things around the room. And it wasn't as if we could afford the fine china, anyway."
======================

Harry2 followed the sounds of Harry's footsteps and her heavy breathing to the kitchens below. He had not quite expected Harry to retreat to food, but he found her eating some of the lasagna the kitchen house elves were making. At the sight of Harry2 entering the kitchen from behind the portrait, she tried to hide the lasagna. Harry2 waved it away.

"I'm not hungry," he said as he sat down on one of the chairs across from Harry. She contrived to look guilty, and then took a defiant bite of the lasagna, as if to accuse him of lying. "I was thinking," Harry2 began. Harry watched him warily. "Have you ever noticed how problems have to be handled in a Wizardly fashion, despite the vast resources of Muggle technology that, really, could slaughter the problems we have? Mom always wondered why a sniper couldn't just shoot Voldemort with a high-powered rifle. Sometimes, I wonder myself. It's amazing the problems that can be solved with a few bullets. It sort of reminds me of my second year." He leaned his chair back. "Mom popped up when we were discussing the matter of the danger lurking in the school walls. She didn't see how magic was going to protect me, so she decided to do it herself. Mom may be a creature of magic, but she's not a creature with magic. She prefers science and falls back onto it when magic fails or doesn't seem to work as she thinks it should work. So she gave me a kikidid."

Harry2 looked at Harry expected. She swallowed her mouthful of lasagna. "What a kikidid?"

"It's this little gun, about so." Harry made a rectangle with his fingers that was the length of one hand. "And it can only fire two to five shots, depending on how low the setting is. Mom gave me the super small setting. However, you rarely need a second shot to finish off what the first one was incapable of doing."

"What does it do?"

"That involves a lot of science." Harry2 held up his hand before Harry could protest. "Now I know that you were raised with Muggles and know a fair bit more about science than most wizards or witches do. But the long and short of it is the kikidid fires an electronic beam that excites electrons to the point where they jump out of the molecule. The kikidid's target generally disintegrates as a result. This beam can cover quite a distance in any sort of terrain (I've seen my uncles use the kikidid on a high setting to demolish whole mountains), and is so quick it's nearly impossible to avoid. What Mom wanted me to do was fire the kikidid at my target and kill it before it turned me into stone."

"Is that how you defeated the basilisk?"

"Not really." Harry2 scratched his head. "Tom Riddle--the ghost, the one in the diary?" He looked at Harry, and she nodded to show she understood who he was talking about. "Well, he took it from me. He had no idea what it was for, but knew it must have meant something." Harry2 laughed, more nervous than anything else. "Riddle fired it by accident and shot the basilisk." He laughed again as Harry stared in wide-eyed disbelief. "And while he stood there in shock at this itty-bitty pile of dust, his jaw hanging somewhere in the vicinity of his knees, I burned his diary into ashes." Harry2 grinned as Harry clapped a hand over her mouth and giggled.

"Not the first time Mom's science helped me. Or got me into trouble. You should have been there the day Ron and I flew to Hogwarts' in Mom's little Cricket. Well, I guess you were there. The Cricket's a spaceship Mom stole long before I was born. Nandin drove it because I called him about being stranded outside the platform. Over Hogwarts, the field of magic interrupted the magnetic fields of the various computers inside the Cricket, and we dive-bombed the Whomping Willow. Ron and I got into trouble naturally, and there was no one to prove we weren't the ones who flew the ship into the Whomping Willow because Uncle Nandin took on his cat form and Mrs. Norris," he grinned, "Mrs. Norris was in heat! We didn't see either of them for quite some time." Harry2 laughed and clapped his hands. "Mom's AI was always a little sassy, but that thing threw the largest hissy-fit in the history of AIs, booted us out of its hull, and scuttled off as fast as it could. Now, I honestly don't know how it managed to actually scuttle around in the magical field, but it did. Mom was furious--I've never seen her that angry before. She said she went into a lot of trouble stealing the Cricket."

"Did she ever get another one?"

Harry2 rolled his eyes upward to the ceiling. A small smile lifted the corner of his lips. "Yeah, she did get another one. And in the same manner as she got the old one. She had to hide it in the lake outside the castle here so the authorities couldn't find it. The water leaked into the cockpit, the merpeople drew graffiti all over the outside of the ship, and the giant squid became quite, ah, affectionate with it."

Harry giggled again as she imagined an amorous squid. "You're kidding!"

"No! No, I kid you not."

"Merpeople don't graffiti spaceships."

Harry2 leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table. "How do you know?" he asked with a suggestive wag of his eyebrows.

"They just don't!"

"So says the ignorant barbarian from a fourth-rate planet."

Harry smacked Harry2's upper arm. "I am not a barbarian!"

He jumped up and pointed at her. "Then you admit to being ignorant and living on a fourth-rate planet!"

Harry sat quietly for a moment, and then laughed. "So maybe I don't know. Sometimes I think that you make some of this stuff up about your family. I bet you're just doing this to make me laugh."

Harry2 spread his arms wide. "I never lie," he said. "Just because my family happens to be so dysfunctional doesn't mean that what they do isn't true. It is! That's what makes them such a dysfunctional family."

Harry sighed longingly and propped her elbows on the table. "I guess. At least you had a family that love you, right?"

Harry2 folded his arms on the table again. "Yeah. There's no denying I'm the apple of most of my relatives' eyes. But you have family as well."

"If you want to call a grandfather whose supposed to be dead, a ghost of an uncle who got turned into a teenager capable of coming back to life in the sunshine, and a drunk manipulator family." And various portraits that couldn't come out of frames or mirrors.

Harry2 studied Harry's face. She dropped her eyes and took another bite of her lasagna. "Draco wouldn't mind being apart of your family."

Harry nearly choked on her lasagna. Harry2 lightly pounded her back as she hacked and coughed. "Wh-what? He's even more dysfunctional than Severus! I wouldn't marry him if he were the last guy on earth and I was to be a girl forever!"

Harry2 leaned back. "Sex, sex, sex! That's all anyone thinks about!" He pressed his fingertips against his lips in thought for a moment. "Has it ever occurred to you that Draco happens to like your company? Okay, so maybe he also likes the sex, but that's not the point here! Two people of opposite, or even the same, gender don't have to have sex in order to be more than friends. If that is all a relationship can be based upon, physical attraction and physical pleasure, it won't last. Try to think above that."

Harry pointed at the general direction of the hospital wing. "He started it!"

"Harry!" Harry2 stopped. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "I don't want to shout at you," he said softly as he leaned back. "But sex is not the best thing since grilled cheese sandwiches. I know; it was the only thing Mom could somehow cook without destroying."

Harry looked thoughtfully at Harry2. "Your childhood was spent living off of sandwiches, wasn't it?" she asked.

"And custard. Grandmother always made this special custard and brought it to Mom and me, rain and shine and snow, every Wednesday, despite my being in class or not. It got to the point where she would bring custard for all of my instructors and everyone in my Griffindor class. But getting back to the original subject, lust does not equate love, or vice versa, but it's easy for someone to pretend that one is the other, rather than how they tend to stand side by side, and do not depend on one another for affection to come out of the relationship." Harry2 sighed and buried his face in his hands.

"I'm seventeen years old. I'm in my last year at Hogwarts. I haven't killed Voldemort yet, and it's going to be quite a mess when I go head on with him. I'm not human; I stopped being human when he attacked me with the Killing Curse when I was only a year old." He dropped his hands and looked at Harry, all cheer and goodwill aside. Harry felt herself leaning back from the hard look in Harry2's eyes. "I've got some wacky relatives and, yes, even some relatives who are very wise. My grandparents run separate kingdoms in separate Realms, and years pass between their seeing each other. My grandmother once told me that the things she missed the most about Grandfather was the loss of contact, of companionship. It's something you become quite attached to.

"People, they are social creatures. They crave human contact and socialization. In wars, they tend to bond more because there is always the threat of losing that contact forever. Draco Malfoy bonded to Harry Potter. Now, I don't know the full story. He says it was a love potion gone awry and there was a series of events that led up to working with one another and forming trust that allowed the love potion to work. And then war came. Draco and Harry learned to depend and protect each other's lives, and that meant a lot. When you protect your friends, Harry, you have in your hands something exceedingly precious." Harry2 cupped his hands together and studied them intently. "And when you lose it, you know what the cost of that will do to you. Human life is fragile, and the shock of it being shattered forever leaves wounds that probably never heal.

"Draco had you, and he lost you, and then you came back."

"What about you?" Harry asked defensively as she squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. "You're just as much Harry Potter as I am."

Harry dropped his hands. His dragon tattoo blinked its red eyes at Harry. "Am I?" he asked. "Harry Potter is a human being, and I'm not. I'm not connected to Voldemort as you are, because I've dual natures. He took the blood of my human nature, not my demon nature. Draco sees and understands that. He knows he has little chance of becoming a lover with me. A friend, yes, but not a lover. At least, not so long as my mother is living, and she's going to outlive us all. And even if I wanted to have lover of the male gender, I happen to know a dhampire who wouldn't have minded in the least with going with me to the fourth-year Yule Ball despite being a, well, male dhampire. And I get along with Dimitri a lot better than Draco."

Harry sank low in her chair as she pushed her lasagna away. "Why me?"

"Because you're not a demon," Harry2 said with a small smile. "But, Harry, at the moment all Draco wants from you is contact. Now, men, as you should very well know, don't reach out for contact like women do. We aren't so touchy-feely. Unless sex is involved. Or at least that's what I've been told by my uncles, who, I might had, are clumsy with women so they really don't get any."

Harry did not think she was touchy-feely as a girl either. Well, there were those bouts of concern she tended to have for Riddle, but that was only because she did not want him to die before he killed Voldemort. Or maybe not. Harry winced at the thought of how she might have been mothering Riddle, and swore viciously at her estrogen for being a bad influence on her moods. Damn it, Harry wanted her testosterone back!

"I suspect that comes with age. But in some ways Draco is very much like his Sirius. He's very much like a little boy trying to cling to something similar to what he's lost. He handles it much easier than Sirius did, but there's that quality of his trying to seek comfort and assurance from you through physical contact. Now this physical contact takes on a form I'm quite sure we'd all rather he didn't express. But that's all he knows. I don't think he received the innocent sort of physical contact from his parents; upperclassmen aren't very hands-on with their children."

Harry frowned. "Are you saying that Draco's parents abused him?"

Harry2 looked surprised, and then he quickly shook his head. "Oh, no!"

"Neglected, then?"

"No, not really. Not in most senses of the word. When you're raised in the sort of environment as he was, you get people to take care of you like a nanny or a governess. Your parents' approval amounts to giving you everything that you want, like toys and candy on demand. There's no doubt in my mind that Draco was a very spoiled child. You're right about that. But Draco didn't receive what I got; hugs, kisses, pats on the head." Harry2 rolled his eyes. "Cheeks pinched, ears tugged, hair mussed. These are things of human contact, and all he learned to associate with human contact is sex. So you have to sort of bear with it."

Harry stared at the table's surface for a long while. She sighed and finally nodded her head. "I guess so," she said. "I usually don't think of seventeen-year-olds being wise enough to think of this."

Harry2 grinned. "I had a discussion with Francis while you were sleeping off Professor Snape's potion for moody women."

"Oh." Harry looked down at her lasagna, and then shoved it away. "I've lost my appetite," she mumbled in explanation to Harry2's puzzled expression. He nodded his head at that, as if understanding. "It's just so . . . I don't know. I'm not used to men fawning over me, and I sort of maybe like Draco, you know, potentially as a friend. I guess I'm not keen at all with the concept of sexual contact with a man, because that's what I'm supposed to be. I'm not interested in the male species like that. And it didn't change, even when I became a girl." She looked at Harry for agreement, or at least sympathy.

"I think it's a matter of getting used to," Harry2 said carefully. "I mean, the concept that Draco likes you, not the concept of you liking Draco." He paused. "That sounded bad," he said with a slight frown. "Forget I said that." He grinned suddenly. "I never discussed this part with Francis. I think my Mom said it best. Either you want sex, or you don't." He waited to see if Harry would say anything, but when she remained silent he stood up and held his hand out to her. "Come on," he said. "We best get back to the others. I don't think we should make Voldemort wait on the account of moody teenagers trying to sort out their lives."

"Well, he should," Harry muttered as she was helped to her feet. "Maybe after he does, he could probably become a little more human. Or are we talking about Tom Riddle?"

"He said he has grandchildren. I think that's proof enough that he had sex with someone, and therefore is a little more familiar with hormones."
=================

Harry and Harry2 entered the hospital wing together, not knowing where to look for the others. The only one who was there was Draco, slouched over on one of the beds and looking as if his heart had broken.

Harry2 prodded Harry in the side with his forefinger. "Go talk to him."

"Why should I?"

"Because he cares."

Harry obstinately crossed her arms before herself. "So?"

"Harry, you want someone who cares for you? You want a family? There's Draco. Prove you want it."

She shook her head. "What if I don't want him though? I said, I'm not too keen on male sexual contact when I'm a boy. I happen to like girls, thank you very much!"

Harry2 sighed as he massaged the bridge of his nose. "Then you currently have more than what he has. He's not in his reality, he doesn't have his friends like Sirius or Remus, and he thinks he's going to lose you all over again. I'm willing to bet that this is worse for Draco being here than Francis coming into the future and learning his family was slaughtered by Voldemort. At least Francis was still in his own reality."

Harry had not thought of that. "You think so?" she asked in a tiny voice as she looked at Harry2 with worried eyes. Francis had been heartbroken and miserable off and on, but she had not liked how he decided to sleep endlessly in the last reality. Harry2 solemnly nodded his head in answer. Harry nervously wrung her hands as she took a few steps forward. Draco was bent halfway over his lap, one hand covering his eyes as the other gripped a fistful of hair. Harry quietly approached him. She glanced over her shoulder at Harry2, but he silently closed the door and waited outside the hospital wing.

Harry carefully perched herself on the edge of the bed Draco sat on. He did not stir. She reached out and ran her hand down the length of his back. Through his robes, she could feel his muscles bunched and tensed. "I'm sorry," she said finally, not really knowing what she was supposed to say under the circumstances. Draco was still. Did he hear her? Harry leaned forward and he looked up, his eyes red. He reached out to her suddenly and when his hands touched her shoulder, she tensed.

Draco froze. "Can I hold you?" he asked her. "Just hold you?" Harry searched his face for anything beyond the misery and sadness. She nodded tersely, and he pulled her close to him in a tight embrace. He planted a kiss on the top of Harry's head. "Love you," he whispered fiercely as he rocked. "Please don't hate me. I died once with you, don't die again. Please. I love you." He planted another kiss on the top of her head. "Please don't hate me."

Harry sighed and slid her arms around his chest. He pulled her so close she was almost on his lap. She squirmed uncomfortably--this was an invasion of her personal space!--and contemplated how it felt no differently from being hugged when she had been male. "I don't hate you. I'm just frustrated."

"I'm sorry." He kissed her again.

"I'm not used to being a girl, and I'm not used to having men fawn over me like you do." And stop kissing me.

"I'll try not to fawn too much."

"I'm not going to be a girl very long, and I don't like men in that way so we couldn't have a relationship like you had with your Harry."

"I'll live. So long as I'm with you, I'll be okay."

Harry noticed an absence of various words in that sentence. "You'll be okay, but not happy?"

"Happiness will come when this is all over and we don't have to worry about Voldemort anymore."

Harry supposed that would have to do for now. "And what about the other Draco? I know I said you were spoiled and rotten and I hated you, but I really meant him."

Draco smiled as he rested his cheek against the top of Harry's head. He buried his nose in her hair and took a deep breath. Harry squirmed some more. "I'll smack him around if you want me to."

Harry thought about that idea. "I'd like to see that. But not now."

"No."

"Now we have to go find the others."

Draco sighed and pressed another kiss on her hair and she tensed again. "I know. Can we wait here for just a few moments though? I like it."

No! I don't want to be held any longer that I can possibly get away with! "I guess."

"Do you like it?"

Truthfully, this close contact with Draco was making Harry feel more than squeamish. There was a funny, but not unpleasant feeling in the pit of her stomach, compounded by the heat she could feel Draco's body radiating and the hard muscles she felt in his chest, arms, and back. While she knew he was a man now and hardened from his own battles, she had not quite allowed herself to think that he was strong and a young man. The feeling in the pit of her stomach was seeping into other places. She glared down at her chest, where she could feel some things becoming hard. Damn you, she thought resentfully. Why don't you behave like a normal male body and not react to this?

"I think we better stop," Harry said as she pulled away from Draco.

He studied her face for a moment, glanced down, and grinned. "I wasn't aware that you were cold," he said mischievously. Harry felt her face turn red and she damned her body again. "Ah, never mind." Draco pressed his lips against her forehead, lingered over it a moment, and then drew back. "Let's go," he said as he stood up. He held his hand out to her, and she accepted it. After Draco pulled her to her feet, they walked out of the hospital wing.

Harry2 stood on the wall next to the door. "Dumbledore and Riddle went off to exchange information," he said. "Madam Pomfrey decided Francis could stay in the Gryffindor Tower with you and I." He wrinkled his nose. "I'm not sure about Draco, but he can come too."

Harry glanced sideways at Draco. "Is the password still pumpernickel?" she asked.

Harry2 looked startled. "No one ever told me anything about passwords!"

"Hmm. Maybe." Harry hurried down the hallway, all-too-aware of Draco clinging to her footsteps.

Harry2 rubbed his nose. "They reek of pheromones," he said to no one in particular. Severus materialized behind him.

"Harry isn't going to be become a boy again any time soon," he said.

Harry2 jumped forward and whipped around, startled by Severus' appearance. He took a deep breath and clutched at his chest. "Weren't you supposed to be doing something?" he asked coldly. Then, "How do you know?"

Severus sniffed and said, "I know my nephew and I know Draco." Harry2 rolled his eyes in response.